One Day
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: One day in the life of Deputy Stiles Stilinski. Stiles/Danny


**One Day  
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**A Word**: There is nothing here but my need to write scenes.

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Stiles wakes up somewhere between his mattress getting flipped and his ass meeting the floor. He has a split second of utter fear that he fills with spastic flailing before he gets to add a brand new bruise to the impressive collection he already has. "Ah, fuck! The hell Derek!?"

He groans his way up to his feet. Kicking the mattress off of himself and finds Derek on the other side of his bed. Angrily mashing at the screen of his phone, and it's not until silence fills the room that Stiles realizes his programmed alarm had been going off. Probably had been going off for a while going by the black death glare he gets when the man drops the phone back onto the bedside table.

"What?" Stiles yawns and stretches. Feeling his spine pop into place. "It's not like you were sleeping or anything."

He hadn't. Derek's fully dressed and Stiles can catch the faint hint of food smell curling through the house. It's a never ending source of amusement for Stiles that Derek is the most cheerless morning person ever.

"I will," Derek growls in his best I-mean-business-Stiles voice. The one that absolutely no one has listened to or feared for well over a decade. "Smother you in your sleep if you don't change that damn alarm."

"But I did!" Stiles protests as he heaves his mattress back up onto the bed frame. Not even trying to hide his shit eating grin as he crawls over it to snag his phone. Pulling up his settings and opening his current alarm. The room is filled immediately with a breathy moan that dissolves into a series of high pitched 'Oh, oh, oh!'s. "See this is from that naughty schoolgirl porno Isaac downloaded last week. My last one was from-"

"I. Don't. Care!" Derek's hand shoots out and the phone goes silent. His eyes flash blue as his fingers flex threateningly around it. "Stop using porn tracks for alarms or I'll delete every bit of porn you _and_ Isaac have."

There's a muffled thump and a protest from down the hall that Derek ignores as he stalks out. Stiles scowls at the empty door and grumbles, "Jesus, you need to get laid."

Isaac appears in the door. Sleep rumpled and pissy looking as he gives Stiles a _look_. "You know he'd do it."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles resigns himself to deleting the folder of porn clips he's been carefully extracting to use on his phone for the past month. Personally, he'd like nothing more than to test Derek's ability to follow through on that threat. Like hell would he be able to break through Stile's password, and even if he could Stiles is confident enough in his ability to download faster than the man can delete. A fact that Derek knows, which is probably why he threatened Isaac too.

If Isaac suffered because of Stiles' pranks -no matter how much they made him laugh too- then it'd be Prank War 6 all over again. An epic battle that had only ended when Deaton stepped in and made if perfectly clear what he was going to do if they all didn't 'grow up.'

Isaac grunts and shuffles off down the stairs. Still in his boxers and a pair of mismatched socks. Stiles thinks about following but the time on his phone reminds him he doesn't actually have the time to slump around the table and bullshit like he normally does.

He goes into the bathroom and pisses for a good long while. Waking up more with each second. He brushes his teeth and eyes the stubble growing on his face before deciding it's light enough he can get away with ignoring it for another day. His uniform is ready to go and Stiles only has to pull it on. Snagging his gun belt on the way downstairs. The weight of his gear is getting familiar in a way that means he's been putting in too many hours, but what else could be expected when harpies flew through the town.

Isaac and Derek are both at the table. Derek's holding a cup of coffee and pondering atoms or something suitably deep. Isaac looks about three seconds from passing out in the eggs he's lazily shoveling in his mouth. Derek's almost compulsive need to _feed_ them is so many different shades of mother henning that Stiles has only made fun of once. Getting told how important meals had been to the Hale pack once upon a time with something that looked very close to tears in the older man's eyes had effectively cured him of saying anything else when Derek cooked.

Stiles picks up his own breakfast from the counter. The eggs and bacon wrapped up in a tortilla to make it easy for him to eat it on the drive to the station. There's no to go cup of coffee and the pot is pointedly empty. A sign that Derek's serious and Stiles rolls his eyes as he heads out the door without another word. He doesn't have time to waste if he's going to have to fend for himself in the caffeine department.

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"The bachelor pad run out of coffee?" Cora asks with a totally judgmental eyebrow when Stiles slides up to the counter of her still unnamed place. Stiles feels special, because she'd actually displaced one of the pimply faced teenagers she's hired for summer to take his order herself.

"It happens," Stiles says and doesn't bother correcting her assumption. She'll only roll her eyes hard enough to get them stuck and tack the incident onto her growing list of reasons why she's totally fine living on her own well away from them. It's a list she repeats, loudly, every time she comes over for the weekly pack dinner and Derek grumbles about her totally unsafe apartment. "I blame Derek."

Derek had played with the idea of tearing down the burnt shell of their family home and rebuilding on the land. It was an idea that Stiles had thought would actually happen for about a year before Derek had an epiphany and realized the last thing he wanted to do was live on top of something that he'd turned into a monument to his family. Cora had been the one to suggest moving into the town itself. Saying how it'd be harder to attack them if they weren't so isolated. The closest she ever got to agreeing with not wanting to live on the land that Scott had once told Stiles still smelled like fire and death.

The house was a perfectly ordinary thing that worked for them. Derek, Isaac, and Cora. It had worked right up until Cora walked right out and signed a lease for her apartment that is. Citing boy smell and other embarrassing things as her excuse. Leaving a room open for Stiles who hadn't wanted to live at home any more, but also wasn't quite ready to be alone.

"You blamed Derek when the sky turned green and frogs started raining down last month," Cora points out as she does something complex looking with one of her expensive looking machines behind the counter.

"I'm sorry," Stiles says as he steps aside to let a bleary eyed woman up to the register, "was I wrong on that one?"

"No," Cora's lips twitch as his cup makes it over to the flavor pumps. She turns her back so he can't see what she's doing to his coffee. "But you only have yourself to blame for _letting_ him date a witch in the first place."

"I didn't know she was a witch!" Stiles protests and looks around the cafe. Amused, as ever, to see how very little of their conversation is actually phasing the people in it. Consequence of living in Beacon Hills he thinks. Though Cora is vehement in her theory that it's just the hour of the day and lack of coffee that makes no one pay any attention. "How was I supposed to know he was going to get himself into that kind of mess?"

"Please, it's Derek," Cora slides the cup across the counter and Stiles picks it up. Gazing into the tan liquid and inhaling it's scent for a minute. "You should've known when he said, 'I have a date.'"

Which is true. So, epically, sadly true. If anyone needs a second -and third and _fourth_- opinion on their choices in life it's Derek. Stiles takes a drink of his coffee and lets the taste distract him. It's mostly chocolate and Stiles grins his approval. "Nice, could use something to cut it though. Maybe caramel or cool whip."

Cora tsks and waves him out the door. "You just never appreciate my culinary genius."

Stiles almost makes the mistake of telling her how very little culinary genius she actually has -Derek obviously got all that talent, Cora is lucky not to burn water most days- but she slips into the back just as the door opens and a fresh wave of customers come in. Stiles snags a lid and wades through them and heads in to work.

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It's still strange, some days, coming in to the precinct and sitting at the desk that used to belong to Deputy Gormen. One of the few officers who'd stuck around well past retirement age, and who had always had a stash of hard candy in the bottom drawer for Stiles when he came in. Stiles keeps his own stash of caramels in there now, just to keep the tradition alive even though there aren't many kids coming in like he used to.

Stiles settles in and sorts through the paperwork that's been left on his desk. Signing off on some and placing others aside to deal with later. He's nursing his coffee along as he waits for the shift change briefing. The breakroom has a new pot that's thick and black and makes him shiver in fear of what it'd do to his delicate innards when he looks at it. He's sure it's strong enough to burn through the carafe and throwing it out would only be a public service, but rules are rules and the pot has to be drunk before another can be made.

"Run out of coffee again?" Dad ambles out of his office with a stack of folders and a cracked mug. He smiles at the cup Stiles is clutching. Stiles bites back on the urge to grill him on what he had for breakfast. They have their own rules for behavior at work, and nagging can only be done over lunch. "Did you let Isaac shop without a list again?"

"Yeah," Stiles shrugs and doesn't bother correcting him either because he's long since learned that it's much easier to let people think what they want than to explain. "I'm about to start pinning it to his leather jacket. You know. Like parents do with mittens or hats."

Dad shakes his head and drops a folder onto his desk. Stiles flips through the papers inside. There's a few reports that need to be followed up on. Minor things that he needs to talk to people about. Just to see if they remembered anything new, or if anything else has happened since the initial report. Two cases of stolen property and one of a possible break in with nothing obvious taken. There's a slew of people complaining about trespassing or reporting wild animal sightings that Stiles identifies as Isaac starting up his restless night wandering thing again. He'll have to warn him to keep out of sight, and then sit on him until he fesses up to what's bothering him.

The last paper is an invoice with a check stapled onto it made out to Deaton's clinic.

"Hey! Kong's ready to come back?" Stiles perks up and pulls that out. Letting the rest fall onto the desk to be dealt with later.

"Scott said she'd be ready any time today," Dad says, leaning against the desk and watching Ramirez fuss around the coffee pot. It's going to take her five minutes before she's got her cup the way she wants it and will accept her load of paperwork. Davey is running late again which should surprise no one. "Don't let him talk you into anything."

"That was once!" Stiles protests because it wasn't like he'd used the station's money to buy that collar for Fork. It'd been neon green with tiny disco balls attached to it, and Fork had been so obviously in love with the shiny thing that he couldn't say no. Sure, it's hard to take the big dog seriously when he wears it now -and he always does because Fork is stubborn enough to ruin any other collar- but even the most unimpressed person would flinch back when Fork starts growling.

"And once is enough," Dad says as Davey comes in. Face a little red still and his uniform just a little rumpled. The hint of what might be lipstick peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. Stiles hides his grin as Dad sighs and straightens up after leaving another folder on the edge of his desk. Fixing Davey with a look that was practiced and perfected well before Stiles graduated high school. "Deputy, a word in my office."

Stiles studiously ignores the way Davey goes even redder and looks guilty as fuck as he follows Dad into his office. Ramirez doesn't bother hiding her laugh as the door shuts. Making her way to retrieve her paperwork from Stiles' desk with a smug and wickedly cruel smirk. "Honey bear there needs to learn how to say no to his pudding cup."

Stiles nearly sprays out the rest of his very nice cup of coffee as Ramirez uses the names no one has ever let Davey forget from the last department cook out. "Be nice, they're obviously in love, and, uh, expressive about it. Nauseatingly expressive."

Ramirez snorts as she flips through her paper. Giving a disdainful look at the closed door that speaks loudly about how much she thinks about that. "At least she gives him his balls back for work."

Stiles is about fifty-fifty on that observation. Sometimes Davey is the competent cop that Stiles has grown used to, and sometimes it's pretty obvious that the only thing in his head is his new wife. It's kinda like going through the first stages of Scott and Allison all over again. Only at work instead of high school. Also, with significantly fewer werewolves and arrows. Stiles isn't sure if that makes it worse or better yet.

"Well, I'm getting Kong," Stiles salutes Ramirez with the dregs of his cup and snags the keys for one of the vans. Just in case the dog was still a little woozy or something. "Enjoy the post ass chewing slink of shame."

Ramirez nods and positions herself to get the best view of the Sherriff's office.

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Kong leaves a substantial layer of slobber on Stiles' face when he comes in. Her bushy tale wagging and body vibrating in excitement. He can barely get a good look at her hind leg with all her squirming. Can't see the shaved down fur where a rusty bar had stabbed into her on a practice sweep in the woods.

"It's not too bad," Scott says, filing away the invoice and check. He's got a bag already filled with things on the counter with a sheaf of care instructions. "I mostly just wanted to be sure she didn't react to any of the medicines. It's the first time she's been hurt. So," Scott shrugs.

"Yeah, alright," Stiles grunts as Kong throws her full weight onto him when he crouches down to attach a leash to her collar. She's a big dog and Stiles has to use a command to get her to not knock him over. He stands up and scratches her head. "Good girl!"

"You going to the reunion?" Scott asks as they wait for the old printer to spit out a receipt. "The ten year reunion for high school," he adds as if there's any other kind of reunion he'd be talking about.

"Eh," Stiles shrugs and riffles through the sack. Looking at the pills and the treats. The post card notice had come for him and Isaac two weeks ago. "I guess I'll go. I don't really care but if you guys are going to be there?"

"Yeah!" Scott plucks the papers out of the printer and folds them into an envelope with the clinic's address on it. "Allison and Lydia have been shopping for the perfect dresses. Something about rubbing their lives in other people's faces."

Which sounds like something Lydia would say. "Not Cora?"

"I don't think she's going?" Scott shrugs the question off. Which also makes sense. Cora only attended their senior year. She'd missed too much and had actually wanted to just skip the whole thing. Get her GED but Derek had said something to convince her not to go that route. "Allison said she didn't want to go shopping with them at least, and do you really think Cora'd ever willingly spend time with people she doesn't like?"

"Point," Stiles concedes and drops the paperwork in the bag. Hooking a thumb through it before clicking his tongue. Kong heels immediately. Falling in next to him like a good K9 should. "Guess I'll see you guys tonight. Might be a little late if I have to pick up Isaac."

"You're going to come in uniform?" Scott asks with a grin like he doesn't already know the answer to that question. Stiles just grins and walks out.

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He is late, but not because he stopped to pick Isaac up. Nope. Not him. Stiles had stopped by the house for the sole purpose of needling Derek about coming along. Telling him he was an honorary member of their class because he'd hung out at the school so much. The look on his face was worth having to dodge a hardcover book thrown at werewolf strength.

Lydia is absolutely radiant in a dress that makes it very clear she can and will eat any man alive and outshines anything everyone else is wearing. She lets Stiles lead her around the area cleared out for dancing once. Allison comes close to holding her own in a fall of expensive looking fabric that doesn't quite hide the swell of her stomach, but really does look like something she could fight in should Lydia require backup. She dutifully repeats her demand that he help with the nursery. An almost daily request that he knows won't happen until she can get Scott to agree on finding out the baby's gender.

The strange thing about reunions -not that Stiles would know from experience, not having been to any before- is that Stiles hadn't realized how many people he hasn't seen since graduating from high school. It's not something he can just pass off as not getting out often enough either. With his job he's all over town and sees a lot of people.

Stiles nods at a few familiar faces and pretends he's not enjoying the hell out of the startled double takes he's getting as he walks through the high school gym. The way people look awed or terrified to see him in uniform and with a gun as he scowls down at the punch bowl. A punch bowl. Seriously. They were all adults now, shouldn't someone have clued into the fact that something a little harder was necessary here?

Not that Stiles would drink it. Not while in uniform, but it would have been nice to at least have the option of making Scott secretly spike his cup for him.

"Stiles."

The voice is familiar enough that Stiles is already smiling when he turns around and sees a face that is more than just vaguely familiar. "Danny! Hey, man, how've you been?"

"Fine," Danny's smiling too and reaching out to shake hands. Stiles swears he doesn't look any different since he'd seen him going off to college. Danny's eyes flicker down. Taking in the badge and uniform. His smile turns wry. "I can't say that I'm surprised."

"You're one of the few then," becoming a cop hadn't been a hard choice for Stiles. It'd been obvious to him, but even after five years he still gets people looking at him funny and expressing their surprise. "You come down with Lydia?"

He's kept up with Danny since his family moved in vague ways. Mostly by listening to Lydia when she calls to rant to him about people.

"She insisted," Danny looks over his shoulder where Lydia is holding court. Just like she used to in high school. Allison and Scott on one side, Isaac on the other. They all look very bemused as a train of people seems to pass by. Nodding and exchanging words with Lydia. "Something about not wanting to be bored that was a complete lie. I wouldn't have come otherwise."

Senior year hadn't been good to Danny. Not at all, and Stiles is still amazed that most of that hadn't been due to supernatural things. He doesn't say anything though. He's learned some tact over the past ten years. Stiles shrugs and wanders away from the punch bowl. Danny follows slowly. "Yeah, I didn't really want to come either."

"So why did you?" Danny asks. Honestly curious and Stiles wants to smile again because he's kinda missed him. Danny had become a friend of sorts by the time they all graduated.

"Isn't it obvious?" Stile waves a hand down his body, and grins wide and sharp. "I wanted to see the looks of terror on the faces of everyone when they realized what I've become."

Danny just gives him a deadpan look. One of his signature looks that he perfected in the face of Stiles at his most sleep deprived and stress induced days. "Funnily enough, Lydia said the exact same thing last month."

"Obviously, great minds think alike," Stiles says and rolls his shoulders. Feeling his neck crack a little because it's been a long day for him. He catches Danny staring, a little too intently, and Stiles licks his lips. Danny stares at that too. Stiles feels a funny little swoop go through his stomach.

"But I've done that already," Stiles tones the wattage of his smile down into something he's been told is charming, "and now I'm over it. Want to get out of here?"

Danny's quiet for a long stretch that almost makes Stiles think he got the wrong signals before he smiles too. "Sure, why not? You have a car?"

"A car?" Stiles asks as he turns around to leave. Taking shameless advantage of Danny not being able to see his face to grin. "Isn't that a little-"

"Lydia drove," Danny follows behind him almost close enough to touch, but he doesn't actually do that until they're out in the open. The night dark and not another person in sight. He presses a hand against Stile's lower back as they both stop. Coming around and holding up a keycard with a half-smile. "But I have my own room at least."

Stiles can work with that. Hell, he could work with just the car even though he's old enough now that the novelty of cramped sex in a car has worn off. It'd be worth it just to fulfill at least one of his _many_ high school fantasies.

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It's going on 3 AM when Stiles lets himself in through the back door of the house. He's not due in until noon at work, and he considers it a minor miracle that he's going to need to find someone to give thanks to for.

Derek's sacked out on the couch. Nothing more than a mound of muscle and the top edge of his eyebrows under the afghan Melissa had given one of them -or maybe all of them, he really can't remember- a while back. There's a foot on the floor and Stiles steps into the living room far enough to see Scott sprawled out half under the coffee table. Isaac's sitting on the floor near his head. His own head tipped back against one of the recliners, and mouth open. He may or may not be drooling.

Stiles passes on the chance to get blackmail material in favor of heading up to his own bed. Dropping the pieces of his uniform he'd been too lazy to put back on for the drive home on the dresser next to his door. He strips out of the rest of his clothes and crawls into bed. Unmindful of where he drops it all. He sets his alarm for far too early, because he's going to need a shower badly and the extra time to put another uniform in order since Danny had really, _really_ liked the one Stiles had been planning to wear another day.

He only remembers what his alarm is set to sound like after he's spread out on his back. Body used and tired in the best possible ways and sleep coming fast. He decides he doesn't give enough of a shit to change it and is out in a matter of seconds.

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End file.
